Mm, yes. It's not so bad, having a spell split in two.
[Once in a while, anyway. He's come around a little on the idea of shared magic, considering all the innovative ways magic and its derivatives and tools are all spread out here. It's not unlike artifacts -- even if he has his nitpicks with those too. He's a flexible Eminence-slash-dark-knight-slash-wizard-slash-whatever-else, though!
Especially when that flexibility gets him fun firework finales. Presuming that this is a finale. Eh, they've got a few more turns to figure that out.
There's a long glissando of notes--]
Great Power! Great Consequence! Our enemy is about to learn the real ramifications of that.
Aren't you?
[He says this very dramatically mech-ward with a flourish of his cloak and is probably at least half-drowned out by the lightning wizards. It's fine. He tried and that's what counts.
And then he intones the real incantation of the hour, in a language no one here really recognizes but which bears a passing but indecipherable resemblance to European languages: I AM.......
ATOMIC: SWORD.
Thus somewhat mundanely named: a sword extends from his sleeve, from his hand, the same jet-black as everything else about him in this moment: honed to a point so fine it doesn't even need to shine, extending outward like an eclipse on earth. Half-hidden and completely powered up by the magic circle underneath them, his shadow sword extends itself, widens itself, until it's almost as imposing as a giant's sword might be -- poised at just the right distance to the second mechanical abomination of all wizard time.
The swing is much, much too fast for a sword that long and spread out, like a slice through space-and-time, sideways. The condensed magic of the sword aims to cleanly bisect anything it encounters, mechanical appendages, innards, pilot cockpit, pilot, and everything in between. At least part of that mecha is going to be running nice and separate from the other parts.]
no subject
[Once in a while, anyway. He's come around a little on the idea of shared magic, considering all the innovative ways magic and its derivatives and tools are all spread out here. It's not unlike artifacts -- even if he has his nitpicks with those too. He's a flexible Eminence-slash-dark-knight-slash-wizard-slash-whatever-else, though!
Especially when that flexibility gets him fun firework finales. Presuming that this is a finale. Eh, they've got a few more turns to figure that out.
There's a long glissando of notes--]
Great Power! Great Consequence! Our enemy is about to learn the real ramifications of that.
Aren't you?
[He says this very dramatically mech-ward with a flourish of his cloak and is probably at least half-drowned out by the lightning wizards. It's fine. He tried and that's what counts.
And then he intones the real incantation of the hour, in a language no one here really recognizes but which bears a passing but indecipherable resemblance to European languages: I AM.......
ATOMIC: SWORD.
Thus somewhat mundanely named: a sword extends from his sleeve, from his hand, the same jet-black as everything else about him in this moment: honed to a point so fine it doesn't even need to shine, extending outward like an eclipse on earth. Half-hidden and completely powered up by the magic circle underneath them, his shadow sword extends itself, widens itself, until it's almost as imposing as a giant's sword might be -- poised at just the right distance to the second mechanical abomination of all wizard time.
The swing is much, much too fast for a sword that long and spread out, like a slice through space-and-time, sideways. The condensed magic of the sword aims to cleanly bisect anything it encounters, mechanical appendages, innards, pilot cockpit, pilot, and everything in between. At least part of that mecha is going to be running nice and separate from the other parts.]